Page 92 of The Keeper

“Welcome back to earth,” the ride operator chirped once the pod returned to home base and the doors opened. She grinned at her own joke. “Did you enjoy your ride?”

“Yes,” I squeaked, mortified. Noah’s low chuckle brushed my back. I elbowed him sharply in the ribs, but I waited until we’d left the premises before I glared at him. “Did you want her to figure out what we were doing?”

“She wasn’t talking about that kind of ride, little bird,” he said. “She would’ve never guessed unless one of us told her.”

I huffed, but it was hard to stay mad at him when he was looking at me with those sparkling, amused eyes. Playful Noah was dangerous for my inhibitions, as evidenced by the fact I’d let him get me off in the freaking London Eye. We’d been suspended over a hundred meters in the air, so the chances of anyone seeing us were slim, but still. That’d been poor judgment on my part, though the experience had been…thrilling. I hoped he hadn’t unlocked a new kink in me because I could see that particular one landing us in hot water quite easily.

We stopped at the crosswalk. He placed a hand on my lower back, easing me out of the path of a passing cyclist, and my heart gave an embarrassing little flutter.

I was about to thank him when a flash of movement caught the corner of my eye. I whipped around, scanning the sidewalk, but I didn’t see anyone except for a canoodling couple and a suited businessman walking with his phone glued to his ear. No one spared us a second glance.

“Did you see that?” I asked.

Noah followed my gaze. “What?”

A seed of doubt sprouted in my stomach. Was I being paranoid because I expected someone to recognize him, and I was surprised no one had yet?

“Never mind,” I said. “It was nothing.”

The light turned green, and we crossed the street. I didn’t notice anything unusual again.

I shook off the shadow of unease, determined not to let my paranoia ruin our last night together before his trip.

I was probably imagining things anyway.

CHAPTER 36

NOAH

The morning after my date with Carina, we had a big going-away breakfast with Evie before we dropped her off at school, and I headed to the airport. Evie was old enough not to cry anymore, but that didn’t stop a knife from plunging into my heart when we hugged goodbye. My parents would take good care of her. They always did. But this was another stretch of time apart, another two months where she’d grow and change and I wouldn’t be there. I couldn’t even celebrate her birthday with her in person since it overlapped with the World Cup.

The Andersons weren’t thrilled about “losing” her for the summer, though they’d put up less of a fuss than I’d expected. We’d agreed they would resume their visits in the fall, and I’d wisely avoided mentioning their request for shared custody. They hadn’t filed paperwork for legal custody yet, and I wasn’t going to remind them.

Saying goodbye to Carina had been both easier and harder than leaving Evie. Easier because she was attending the tournament, so the chances of seeing her soon were high despite my crazy schedule; harder because the thought of even a few weeks apart sat heavy in my chest.

However, I firmly set all these things aside once I landed in South Africa. Despite my internal conflicts between football and family, this was the fucking World Cup. It required all my energy and attention, and after two weeks of training with my team and friendlies against other nations, it was finally here. US versus Japan, our first official match of the tournament.

I shifted my weight into a defensive stance, my muscles coiling with anticipation as Japan’s attack pressed forward. June was the start of winter here, and we’d been blessed with a cool, clear day. Nevertheless, sweat gathered along my neck and spine, and the temporary tattoo of a pair of wings tingled on my wrist. Evie had applied it before I’d left, as she had before every international tournament since she was five. It was our lucky tradition.

Hopefully, that luck would hold.

Adrenaline flooded my veins when our defense failed to stop Japan’s attack down the middle. We were fifty minutes into the match, and neither side had scored yet. Most of the action had been contained to the midfield so far, but the crowd grew louder the closer the striker got to the goal—to me. When he drew back his leg for a shot, the noise reached a fever pitch.

I reacted before I consciously registered the shot.

Being a goalkeeper required incredible athleticism, but that was the easy part. The hard part was meeting and surpassing the mental demands—the spatial awareness, the split-second decision making, the ability to remain vigilant during long stretches of inactivity and, most importantly, the instincts. The anticipation of when, where, and how an attack would come.

Those instincts could make or break a match, and mine had already kicked in before the striker’s foot fully left the ball. I dove to the left. The ball sailed toward the top corner of the net, and time slowed for a heartbeat before a solid weight hit my palms. I caught it easily—my first save of the tournament.

Thunderous cheers from the US fans drowned out the collective groan from Japan as I tossed the ball back into play.

Exhilaration sang along my arms and legs. I’d felt ambivalent about my career recently, but I’d forgotten how much I’d missed this. The high stakes and the rush of playing—and succeeding, if only for one goal—on the biggest sporting stage in the world. Fuck, it felt good.

My tattoo tingled again. Thank you, Evie. Superstition was as much a part of the sport as strategy, and I chose to think my daughter’s good luck charm made a difference.

I allowed myself to bask in the moment before I locked back in. Both sides had more attempts on goal, but in the end, we walked away with a zero-zero draw. Not the best, but not the worst either, depending on the other match outcomes in our group.

“I know I told you this in the dressing room, but that was a fucking great save, man,” Austin said later, during our bus ride back to our hotel. He was a center-forward and the captain of our national team. He sat across the aisle from me, his eyes twinkling. “Feels good to play a proper match with you again.”